


we both know that it's not fashionable to love me

by Del (goddessdel)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: 2015 Xmas The Husbands of River Song, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Del
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I told you - I had to keep talking."</p>
<p>"And you went with a detailed accounting of how your husband never loved you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	we both know that it's not fashionable to love me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/gifts).



> Written: 12/28/15-5/2/16
> 
> Title from "Honeymoon" by Lana del Rey.
> 
> Look, fluff! I think this counts as fluff? It does count as fluff, right? I haven't written so much angst that I can't tell anymore?!
> 
> Thanks to Charina, Megs, Beverly and Pam for encouraging the post-Xmas scraps of dialogue bouncing around in my head, and Beverly for a quick glance over.
> 
> For Pam to make her smile.

They make it through dessert before it's impossible to ignore it any longer: that moment right before River _finally_ saw him. That moment where the woman who held both his hearts in her hands admitted she'd never believed they were real at all. That they'd been hers all along.

 

The Doctor pushes his fork and untouched pudding aside, folding his hands over the table and clearing his throat. "About before..."

 

He's not sure how he means to continue but River doesn't let him get that far. It's probably for the best. Instead she sighs and keeps her eyes fixed on her dessert. "I told you - I had to keep talking."

 

The Doctor watches her closely, unable to curb the slightly incredulous, cynical tone that colors his own words. "And you went with a detailed accounting of how your husband never loved you?"

 

River rolls her eyes as though he's being ridiculous. "Would you have preferred: he loves me so much that we'll be standing on your graves in short order?"

 

She's expecting the old him - the one who flailed about and blushed and never could quite manage the words. But he doesn't let his gaze wander: this is too important. He's never been the best at voicing his feelings - a trait they clearly share for the worst - but he's not about to let his wife spend one more minute believing that their marriage is one-sided. "Yes, actually. Besides - it's true. We are standing on their graves." And he can't help a complete lack of remorse, not after they threatened River's life.

 

"That's not the point," she snaps, flustered.

 

"I disagree."

 

She gives him a look that says he's being unnecessarily thick. "The point is that it doesn't matter if the stories they tell of us say that I'm in love with you - most people are. But you need to stay a legend: untouchable."

 

There it is again. _Untouchable_. It's laughable, coming from the woman who has touched him the most, and he doesn't only mean that in the vulgar way, though she certainly carries that distinction as well. He can't resist throwing her own words back at her, scowling a bit at them. "Like the stars themselves?"

 

"Like the Doctor."

 

There's a terrible finality in the way she says that - as though that's how he must stay, how she sees him. She's told him this once before, in her recent and his lengthy past. He'd thought then that she was cross with him. He'd not realized until her comments on the ship that she actually believed it. "You mean the ageless god? I've aged, in case that also escaped your notice, and I don't just mean the face."

 

River softens slightly, her tone all but begging him to agree with her, though she'd never actually beg. "It's dangerous for both of us if the stories say that you care."

 

He takes a careful breath, wanting to be clear, wanting them both to be clear. "About you."

 

"Yes."

 

For once, the Doctor finds himself being desperately, utterly honest. "But I do." He'd beg her gladly if he thought it would help her believe him.

 

River sits back, as though they're in perfect agreement. "Then you'll understand why I said what I did."

 

The Doctor follows her, leaning forward and holding her gaze, letting some of the anguish he's felt since that moment show in his. "I don't understand why you believed it. River-"

 

"Rule One."

 

He shakes his head at her easy dismissal, fighting the urge to cross his arms sullenly. "Doesn't fool androids."

 

River arches one perfect eyebrow, challenging. "How would you know?"

 

"Because you cried."

 

Insulted, River scoffs. "I most certainly did not."

 

His brilliant, brave, beautiful wife. Valiantly hiding away all the feelings that she never meant to let him see at all. If the Doctor weren't so horrified, he'd be impressed. "You cried and you tried to hide it. If it had been Rule One, you'd have been sobbing like some sodding Shakespearean heroine." His tone has more bite than he intended, but he's sick of her looking him in the eyes and pretending it doesn't matter.

 

River's eyes flash at his tone. "You don't know everything about me, Doctor."

 

The Doctor winces, and River looks momentarily contrite. "I think we've established that." He doesn't mean to start a row but he can't just let this lie any longer. "I certainly didn't know that you considered our centuries long marriage to be the sort of bond that doesn't require love." He pauses to take a deep breath - to explain. "You were the only one who ever saw me as just a man, River. What kind of man did you think I was?"

 

_Am I a good man?_ He's often afraid to ask himself that question, but he thought he'd known River's answer.

 

Her eyes soften but River shies away from answering. "The kind that also happened to be a sunset, clearly."

 

"You're being flippant."

 

"You're being melodramatic."

 

" _River_."

 

His hands fidget a nervous pattern on the tabletop, itching to tug at his hair. River reaches across the small table and places her hand over his. It's warm and soft and he closes his eyes for just a moment to bask in her touch. This body refuses to become accustomed to touch with anyone else. With River, she touches him and it feels like he can finally breathe again.

 

At last, her voice softens with a hint of the real emotions he saw so openly on display for strangers - the ones she hides from him. "It wasn't _you_ , sweetie. It's just - well, you've seen for yourself now: who I am. I'm not like you, Doctor. I would have killed Hydroflax without a second thought or an ounce of remorse, and not even just because I had to. I _wanted_ to. I'm a psychopath, Doctor." She says it with a quiet conviction, her voice growing quieter still with each subsequent word, until he has to strain to hear her. "...Who could love a psychopath?"

 

Oh, _River_. It hurts all over again, that she believes that. There's an immediate protest on his lips. "You love _me_."

 

River meets his eyes at last, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "You're not a psychopath."

 

That's not what she said the last time she was cross with him. Some days he thinks she was right. "Neither are you. Or perhaps we both are. Does it matter? I love you, River Song, you infuriating madwoman. Or haven't you been paying attention? I. _Love_. You."

 

She takes a steadying breath while the Doctor holds his own, hearts pounding in his chest. "Still? Even after..."

 

"River," he shifts their hands until he can twine their fingers together - holding hands across the table like the young lovers they never were. "I've always known who you are: the woman I love. Just because I don't approve of all your methods doesn't change that." He swallows, struggling past the lump in his throat. "You've loved me at my worst, River. My darkest days. How could I begrudge you a few grey ones?"

 

Through the gloss that is edging his vision, he hopes.

 

By some miracle, River smiles at him - that joyful, genuine smile that he always felt was his alone - the one he never quite feels he deserves. "Not with your roots like that, you can't," she teases, her voice overly light to hide the same tears he's fighting to hold at bay.

 

It's a more honest acceptance than if she'd said the words and that's enough.

 

"Grey before ginger," the Doctor laments, falling back into the easy banter he thought he'd long forgotten but still feels like second nature with his wife. "Just my luck."

 

"It suits you," River frees one hand to reach up and tenderly brush her fingertips through his hair. "Very grown-up."

 

"You suit me," the Doctor corrects, lifting her other hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I figured it was high time I grew up for you."

 

Fed up with the distance, River drags them both to their feet, walking backwards away from their table, still gripping his hand tightly. Her eyes are still bright, but her grin quickly turns to something properly wicked. She licks her lips and eyes him up and down, slowly. "Prove it."

 

The Doctor lets her walk them towards the TARDIS, already tugging at his ridiculous tie. Something that feels like a smirk tugs at his lips. He'll prove it over and over again, however long it takes. They have time. "Gladly."


End file.
